Monthly Streamnotes: March 2026

You can check out the playlist for the previous month here

I only wrote five album reviews for this inaugural issue of "Monthly Streamnotes" (title still a work-in-progress) since my main goal here was to publish this as soon as possible to avoid getting bogged-down with quantity. The idea of doing something like this has been floating around in my journal entries for a while, which risked its permanent banishment to hypothetical.  

Unlike the other reviewers whose format I'm shamelessly ripping off here, (predominately Robert Christgau and Tom Hull) I've decided to not be particularly constrained by time. The streaming age—for better and worse—has made music's temporal relevance largely irrelevant; I will probably get into this subject more in a future post, but for now, the curation of music that exists here will be largely dictated by my mood. 

Another thing: The grading system used here is the same as Robert Christgau's current one. This will almost certainly change as I review more albums, as I have some apprehension about Christgau's system—particularly the overly expansive B+ and A- designations. I will write a post delineating my system's grading rules when implemented. For now, don't take the grades per se too seriously. 

 

Courtney Barnett: Creature of Habit (March 2026)

Barnett's anxieties take an existential form, ditching her usual flat-affect and dry humor for post-breakup longing and self-help cliches since she's "exercising how good it feels to be alive," but her vocal catabasis would have you believing otherwise. Many tunes with worthy replay-value. A

 

Dijon: Absolutely (November 2021) 

Some great songs ("Bike Mike's," "Talk Down"), some okay songs ("Many Times," "The Dress"), and some that only make sense with the vastly superior film ("Scratching," "Annie"). The rest are just background noise. B+

 

LL COOL J: THE FORCE (September 2024) 

Surprisingly, the energy is maintained for a few after the morally-dubious song where him and Snoop Dogg channel Christopher Dorner, but LL's samey flow can only be saved by Q-tip's dynamic production for so long. Still, the chilling manifestoic words prefacing the first half ring throughout. The second half is more expected though—with a occasional highlights. A-

 

John Coltrane: Olé Coltrane (November 1961)

Forget what jazzheads might tell you about A Love Supreme, this is true spiritual Coltrane. The title track maintains an articulate ardour for which only the likes of The Clash have reached near the intensity of. Tyner's rhythmic pulse, Dolphy's shrill vocalizations, and—don't forget—Coltrane's Coltrane-isms play out in an argument and coalescence of personalities that serve as a testament to the breathturning affect of music effect of music. A+ 

 

Frank Sinatra: In the Wee Small Hours (April 1955)

Sinatra's unashamed intensity makes late nights and heartbreaks profound. He tells us, "I can't erase / your beautiful face / before me," and I believe him, not because what he's saying is especially perceptive or creative, but because he imbues each word with such reverence that you can't help but hear the guy out. A

 

Listen to April's playlist:

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